


Can't Keep Still

by goseaward



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6367150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every few days for the last few months, Louis will start dancing to music he can't hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Keep Still

"Were you... _dancing_?" Zayn says distatefully as Louis sticks his head into the art classroom.

Louis sniffs. "I was _walking with flair_ ," he says.

"Right." Zayn looks sceptical as he rinses out paintbrushes. "And two days ago, with the fingers, also walking with flair?"

"Obviously." It was definitely dancing. Louis doesn't want to talk about it. "You up for a pint after dinner?"

Zayn shrugs. "Maybe. You gonna walk like that when we get there?"

"No. I'm not mental." Or, rather, it only happens now, round dinnertime. For a while it was happening late in the evenings, but for the last month or so, dinnertime.

Zayn smiles. "Tell that to your students."

"They love me," Louis says confidently.

"Love you 'cause you're mental."

"Anyway, you in?"

Zayn shrugs. "Sure. Gimme a ring after tea?"

* * *

Louis doesn't really tune into what Zayn's saying until he hears the word "ticket." "What?" Louis says, turning away from the Rovers game on the telly above the bar.

"I said, my cousin's got an extra ticket for that Liam Payne show in two weeks," Zayn says. "You want it?"

Now that he's looking at him, Louis can see the slow smirk at the corner of Zayn's mouth. "Liam Payne can fuck right off."

The smirk blooms over Zayn's face. "Bit harsh, babe."

"Fucking derivative popstars," Louis says. "Not an original song in his catalogue. I can write better fucking songs than that."

"You're still doing that, then?" Zayn says fake-casually. He starts to draw something in the faint ring of condensation on the table in front of him.

In an exaggeration of Zayn's tone, Louis says, "Are you still singing, then?"

Zayn grimaces down. "Sorry," he mumbles. Part of the ring of water turns into a faint, hard-to-see quaver. "So you don't want the ticket?"

"I could go and heckle."

Zayn's eyes flick back up at him. "You wouldn't, though."

"I might," Louis says.

Zayn breathes out, almost a laugh. He picks up his glass and holds it out. "To Liam Payne, doing what we can't."

Louis taps the rim of his glass to Zayn's and takes a drink.

Later, when the game's over and they've both had more than they should on a school night, Zayn says, "Have you heard anything yet?"

Louis doesn't know why Zayn is asking now. "No," he says shortly. "Anything new from yours?"

Zayn shakes his head. His soulmate's voice is faint—probably on another continent, according to Louis's long-ago health lessons—and they don't talk all that much. He's never seemed in any particular hurry to find her, though. Not that he has much trouble finding a way to pass the time.

"Maybe they were watching this match, too," Louis says. "Maybe you could've been yelling at the ref at the same time."

"Maybe she's a Rotherham fan." There's that smirk again.

Louis shakes his head. "No. I'd never allow it."

"Do you think the dancing thing is part of it, though?" Zayn says. "Like, that's pretty fuckin' weird."

"No," Louis says. But he's not really sure. He's never heard of anything nonverbal like that. Words or almost-words too fuzzy to hear, that's what everyone else gets. Not music your brain can't hear but your body can.

"Okay," Zayn says. "I got the next round?"

"Yeah, cheers."

* * *

There are times, this year, when Louis's feet can't keep still. ("I never knew me a better time, and I guess I never will," Louis sings to himself.) Every few days for the last few months, with a few breaks, he'll start dancing to music he can't hear. Now that Zayn's raised the issue—and, if he's honest, even before that—Louis wonders if it's his soulmate coming in, like the fuzzy bits when you're turning the knob on an old radio and you're getting close to the right frequency.

He knows he's still young—that only half the people his age have even heard their soulmates yet, and fewer than that have met them—but he's always thought it would happen early for him, and each year it gets harder. Like he might never find them. He knows plenty of people who get along just fine without theirs, but it's something Louis's always wanted, the knowledge that of all the people in the world, he's found the absolute perfect person for him. It has sustained him through tough times—when he had to repeat in school, when his parents were getting divorced—the idea that there's someone out there who would love him anyway. Who'd want a family with him (because no soulmate of Louis's doesn't want kids, there's just no way). 

He doesn't like being single, never has. He's never lacked for girlfriends or boyfriends—there are always people who haven't heard their soulmate's voices yet but still want to be in relationships. Ever since Eleanor's voice came in and it wasn't him, though, it just hasn't seemed right.

Maybe his soulmate is mute? Maybe this is the only way they can talk to him?

Is that how that would work, anyway? It would have to be somebody without thoughts, not just without words. 

Whatever it is, it's shit, he decides.

* * *

Somewhere out in the hall, one of the students has a radio on. It's clearly not allowed, which is probably why they've chosen the corridor outside Louis's classroom—they know he won't bother them.

The music isn't bad. It's a Live Lounge, clearly, the music performed well but not nearly slick enough to be a studio effort. Louis probably would choose Adele, too, given the chance. (He's never going to be given the chance.) He dances along with it as he reorganises chairs for his next lesson, clearing floor space for a pseudo-stage. He should really plan his lessons better so he doesn't have to rearrange the room as often as he does, but at least this time the music makes it more fun; he waltzes some of the chairs into place, even though, strictly speaking, the music isn't a waltz.

He hears that arsehole Parker yelling at the students in the hall. Then the radio shuts off. It takes Louis a minute or so to realise he's still dancing, and suddenly he's tense and cold like someone dumped ice cubes down his shirt.

When the students come in, he's sitting behind his desk—garnering a few odd looks, since that's not his usual style—and holding his knees down with his hands until the urge passes. As soon as the students are gone, he looks up the Radio 1 website, and there are the tiny letters telling him exactly what he doesn't want to know:

Liam Payne.

He waits until he's home to look up Payne's concert schedule, and there in black and blue (Louis needs to have a word with whoever designed this website) is a catalogue of every time Louis's danced for the last two months. Europe—those were the evening dances—and Japan and southeast Asia—noon. Every day he could remember dancing, Liam Payne had been singing to a crowd.

The bouts didn't last the length of a concert, thank goodness. Louis's not sure what he would have done if he'd been dancing for an hour or more per day. He checks the times against his memories; it's definitely not the start or the end of the concert. It must be certain songs, then, or something like that.

Could it be one of Payne's fans? Louis hates the guy; he can't imagine falling in love with someone who loved his music. But he doesn't think the Live Lounges usually have much of an audience. So, then, it's worse. Somebody in Payne's band, or one of his team. Maybe they look on it as just a paycheque; maybe they're not really into his music. Louis has pictured so many ways he might meet his soulmate, and every one of them was happy, or at least funny (Louis isn't above a comedy of errors), but he'd never thought he'd have to find them without words, or that they'd be working for someone he dislike as much as he dislikes Payne.

Louis clicks over to the tour schedule. The closest show is sold out.

Of course. Because what he needs is a little _more_ humiliation.

* * *

"Zayn," Louis says the next morning.

"Louis," Zayn says, not moving from his desk. It comes out _Lou-ehh_ , softened by Zayn's accent.

"Does your cousin still have that extra ticket for the Liam Payne show?"

Zayn's head pops up, his eyes wide. "You—oh, for a friend or something?"

"No," Louis says. "For me."

Zayn's eyebrows slowly climb up his face.

Finally, Louis takes pity on him. "You know the whole—" He dances a bit.

"Right," Zayn says doubtfully.

"Uh. It's apparently—in time with live Liam Payne shows?" 

Zayn starts to laugh.

"Yes, I _know_ ," Louis says, irritated. "So I think it's someone in the band, or something."

"Someone in the band, sure," Zayn says.

Louis taps his foot. "So, can you get me a ticket or not?"

* * *

Louis has his beanie pulled down over his ears as far as it will go. He saw one of his students earlier, but she's sitting on the other side of the arena. Thank goodness. He hopes none of the others are here.

Bad enough to be seen outside of school (Louis likes to maintain an air of mystery). Worse to be seen at a Liam Payne concert. Absolutely deadly to be seen here alone.

He keeps trying to hear something from his soulmate, but he's not getting anything. He's definitely not getting a voice, although, at this point, he hardly expects to. He'd thought proximity might change things; seems it hasn't. He hasn't had any dancing episodes since the tour buses rolled into town last night, nor today, although there must have been a soundcheck at some point. It's possible he's wrong, but he's felt a kind of rightness about the world since the ticket was in his hands, and he doesn't think it's just wishful thinking.

He can't help the way his heart kicks up when the lights start to dim, and he tries not to be disappointed when the only people who come onstage are Payne and some backup singers. Louis can see the band in shadow at the back of the stage, but he feels like he won't know until he can see their faces. He'd looked at photos online, of course, and he hadn't got any kind of aura from them. Based on the symptoms alone—rhythm and nothing else—he'd figured the drummer, Josh, was the most likely suspect, but there was no way to know for sure.

Louis claps along through the first few upbeat songs for no reason other than crowd participation; he tries not to feel bitter about that. Then it's Ballad Time, and Louis would be tempted to go for a drink if he wasn't worried about being in his seat when the next upbeat song comes on.

But oh, when it does.

First feels anticipation. The lights have gone down, but it doesn't feel like _his_ anticipation; it's the first thing he's ever got from his soulmate that isn't a beat. Then the drums start up and his feet start to twitch—it's actually not as strong now that he's hearing the actual music—and he thinks he was right, it was the drummer, but then the lights come up and it's Payne onstage with his guitarist, and Louis looks at them and he knows: this is it. His soulmate is right there.

Niall Horan, that's the guitarist's name. 

It's more like a rock band than a pop concert now: Payne singing to Niall, Niall riffing under Payne's voice. It feels right the way the ticket felt right, the way nothing's felt right before. Transported, Louis watches them through the set of two songs, and then Niall goes back to the band and the itch and Louis's feet goes away and he starts to think about how he's actually going to arrange meeting him.

* * *

There's really only one thing to do.

He leaves early, before the end of the last song, and makes his way around the arena to a set of barricades. He's not the first, but there aren't many people here yet, and some of them are clearly mothers holding a space for their daughters to fill later. 

He drifts over to a security guard and says, "Does Niall usually come out?"

The guard doesn't respond, but his chest heaves in a little laugh that Louis might have missed if he wasn't looking for it. No, then. 

"So this is probably pretty weird," Louis continues, "but I think I might be his soulmate."

The guard doesn't respond.

"So if you could, like, take him a message, or ask him to come out or something, that would be great."

Nothing.

Louis stands at the barricade and taps his fingers, not staring at the guard exactly, but not looking away. This guy thinks he can outlast Louis? Ha. Louis teaches teenagers. This guy would get killed on the first day.

Five rather boring minutes later, another man dressed identically to the guard comes up. They mutter at each other for a bit, below Louis's hearing, but with the way the other guy studiously doesn't look at Louis, he thinks he's the topic of their conversation.

The barricade's filling up, now, two deep over nearer the trailers. Louis had chosen the far end, since he doesn't care about Payne. Satisfied that he's done as much as he can until somebody talks to him again—either to introduce him to Niall or to ask him to leave—Louis takes out his mobile and plays a game until he hears a faint cheer from the other end, quickly cut off.

The door to the arena had opened, and it's not Payne coming towards him. Louis pockets his phone as he sees Niall over the heads of the girls nearest him. A few of them hold out programs and Niall signs them, making his way slowly to where Louis's waiting.

Finally, Niall looks up and looks at Louis. Niall's eyes are pretty, icy blue and friendly at the same time. "Hi," he says. 

"Hi. I'm Louis."

"My soulmate," Niall says, smiling faintly, but with a question in his eyebrows. He doesn't touch Louis, Louis notices. That's supposed to be something special, the first time you touch your soulmate. Louis half wishes he'd stuck his hand out for a handshake and half feels grateful because it might mean more if he gets to know Niall first.

"Have you been hearing anything—?"

Niall shakes his head.

"I didn't really, either," Louis says. "It's just, I've been dancing to music I can't hear for a couple of months, and it turns out it matches up with your shows. Just during the songs you do up front with Payne, though."

Niall's eyes widen, like he's surprised by that. Interested, Louis hopes. "That's not like any soulmate I've ever heard," is all he says, though, in a neutral-sounding voice.

"I know."

"Hmm." Niall chews on his lip for a moment. There's something there, but Louis can't tell if it's soulmates or not. "Look—were you here for the openers?"

Louis nods.

"We're in a hotel tonight so they're having a little party. I was going to crash it. Do you want to come along?"

"Yeah," Louis says. He doesn't have to think about it.

"Okay." Niall digs something out of his pocket—a scrap of paper with something written on it. Louis's oddly touched that he'd prepared that much. "Here's the address. Come by around midnight, we might not be back before then."

Louis pockets the paper, careful not to touch Niall's fingers when he takes it—rude to touch before Niall wants, he thinks. "See you then," he says.

Niall smiles at him, full-out like he hadn't before. Louis's still not sure, but something feels right about it.

* * *

He can hear the party before he gets there. It's not too loud, but the hotel is pretty quiet.

There's a security guard sitting at the end of the hall, but he must have been warned about Louis, because he doesn't give him any trouble. Louis knocks on the door and it opens, revealing a woman Louis thinks he recognises from the opening act. She stares at him for a moment and then says over her shoulder, "This yours, Niall?"

Niall's head appears around the corner and he waves Louis in.

They're in the living area of a suite of some kind. It's nice, some sofas and a table and a PlayStation that seems to be a recent addition. There are enough people it seems a little crowded, though there are still some places to sit, if only because the people actually using the PlayStation are sitting on the floor. One of the doors leading off the space is open and Louis sees a jumble of suitcases and clothing before he sits next to Niall on the one of the sofas, far enough away they don't touch. Niall's showered since Louis last saw him; he hopes that means something good.

"Nice place," Louis says.

Niall's mouth twitches into a faint smile. "It's a hotel," he says. "They're all fairly similar."

"Sure." Louis doesn't really stay in hotels that much, but he can imagine. "So. Is there anything you wanted to ask me? Or should we just, like, get to know each other? I don't really know how this works."

"Well, I'm Niall Horan," says Niall. 

"Nice to meet you, Niall. I'm Louis Tomlinson. That's an interesting accent you've got. I'd almost think you're not from around here."

"Mullingar. County Westmeath. You're from this area, right?"

"Yeah. Donny born and bred."

Niall nods along, ignoring the cheering and cursing from the floor as the game ends. It's not hard for Louis to ignore it, either. The thrum of anticipation is taking over everything but Niall. "What do you do for a living, Louis Tomlinson?"

"Teacher. Drama, secondary school."

"Are you going to give us a monologue, then?"

"Alas, poor Yorick," Louis intones.

"You knew him well?"

"I knew him, _Horatio_ ," Louis says pointedly.

Niall grins back at him.

"I like musicals better, actually. You've seen Grease, right?"

"Of course." Niall leans forward. "Do you perform, too?"

"Used to. I just supervise the kids now." Louis considers making a joke about the similarities of his students and this party, which apart from himself and Niall is just people watching other people play video games, but he'd rather focus on Niall's intense attention. Besides, Liam Payne doesn't usually walk into his classroom the way he just walked into this hotel room, though he'd probably get at least as many cheers.

Niall's eyes flick over to Payne, but he just says, "You like your job, then?"

"Yeah. The kids are great." Louis leans closer, but Niall doesn't come to meet him: still not ready to know, apparently. "The parents, not always. But the kids are good."

Niall nods. 

"How about you? Is this your main job, or...?"

"It's the main gig, yeah." Niall settles back into the sofa, his body language opening. "I sing a bit too, on me own, but this pays the bills."

"You like it, though," Louis says. It's impossible to watch him onstage and think otherwise.

Niall smiles, more with his eyes than his mouth, and Louis feels again like he passed some kind of test. "Love it," he says. "I get to make music for a living and I like the people I work with."

"That's important, yeah," Louis says. "My best mate's in the art department at my school. I don't like everybody there but at least I've got him."

"Good." When Louis doesn't follow up immediately, he says, "Do you do anything else with music? On your own, like, not with your students."

Louis nods. It feels a bit like baring his soul, but—this is his soulmate, after all. "Some. Just for fun, you know. Not for an audience." He clears his throat. "Actually, that's one reason I thought—like, it makes sense my soulmate would like music too, y'know?" 

Niall tilts his head in acknowledgement.

"So when I was dancing, it didn't sound like any soulmate connection I'd ever heard of, but it made sense that that's how it would be for me. For us." He gestures between himself and Niall, because really—at this point, how could he be wrong?

Niall bites his lip for a long moment and then says, "You're not my soulmate."

Louis sits back, surprised, maybe offended. "What do you—" He cuts off when Niall grabs his wrist. He tenses against whatever's going to happen, but nothing does; it's just Niall's fingers on his arm. He almost chokes on the disappointment. "But—"

"You're the wrong gender, for one thing," Niall says with a sad smile.

Louis yanks his arm out of Niall's grip, not gently. They haven't attracted attention yet from the other people in the room, so he tries to keep his voice low, even though he's abruptly boiling mad. "Then why'd you even invite me back here?"

"Thought you might be someone else's," Niall says. "If your story was true."

"Of course it's true!" 

"Mate, you don't know what people will do to meet Liam." Niall nods across the room to where Payne's got one of the controllers in his hand and—okay, he's actually beating whoever he's playing against, which might be the first mark in his favour Louis's found. 

"Ugh, I don't want to meet _Payne_." Louis realises his mistake almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Niall looks both shocked and hurt. "Sorry. I'm sure he's a good mate. His music's just not to my taste." He's sure Payne can't hear them over here. Pretty sure.

Niall takes a moment to think about that. "What don't you like about it?"

"Not very original, is it," Louis says. "Feels like I've heard every one of those songs before."

Niall just nods at him. "Okay," he says; then, louder, "Liam?"

Payne turns around. Niall gestures at him, so Payne hands off the controller and comes over like an eager puppy. "Hullo," he says.

"Hi," Louis says.

"This is Louis Tomlinson. He's a local drama teacher," Niall says.

"Nice to meet you, Louis," Payne says dutifully. He's different than Louis would have expected close up. Earnest, like a puppy. He's not doing the popstar ego thing; he doesn't seem to mind that Niall's introducing him to some Donny rando.

"You should sing him the thing," Niall says.

Payne blinks at him. "Which thing?"

"The thing. That you've been hearing."

Inexplicably, Payne blushes.

"Please?" Niall says.

Payne sighs, and then sings—not too loud, but loud enough to be heard over the video game. There are no words, just an open "ah", which is probably why it take Louis three bars to figure out it's one of his.

Louis frowns and looks over at Niall. "What the fuck is—"

"What are the lyrics, Louis," Niall says, dead calm.

It's impossible.

Liam has stopped singing, so Louis takes over with the words scribbled in a notebook shoved between the sofa cushions in his flat. Liam's crying before Louis gets to the end of the line, so he stops and says, "Come on, it's not that bad." Even though he knows.

Liam steps forward and wraps Louis up in a hug and—

It's everything touching Niall wasn't. Louis has a fireworks display in his head and his ears feel like they're throbbing with the beat of Liam's heart. He sighs and tilts his head up and Liam's kissing him before he can think to ask for it, better than any kiss he's ever had, even without the ancillary benefits: just Liam, who feels right in his arms, who's getting Louis's face a bit salty and wet. 

"Hey, why are you crying," Louis says, pulling back to wipe the tears off Liam's cheeks with his thumbs. Liam sniffles and kisses him again, and so Louis ignores the looks they're certainly getting and lets himself be kissed.

He knows why Liam's crying. They've both been waiting so long, he thinks.

Later, they'll talk; later, there will be introductions and figuring things out and all the firsts of a new relationship. Not everyone ends up with their soulmate, even when they meet. But Louis knows Liam's it for him.

He ends up dancing Liam out into the hall for some alone time. Liam's not a very good dancer, but that's fine with Louis: he doesn't have to prove anything to Louis; all he has to do is stay with him. And he's a good enough dancer (and everything else) for that.


End file.
